


Things Known and Unknown

by quoth_the_ravenclaw



Series: Woven [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoth_the_ravenclaw/pseuds/quoth_the_ravenclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. It sweeps through him like ice water, pricks beneath his skin, leaves him feeling like there’s a hole in his stomach, and he just knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Known and Unknown

 

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. It sweeps through him like ice water, pricks beneath his skin, leaves him feeling like there’s a hole in his stomach, and he just _knows_.

 

-

 

It isn’t a surprise when he finds Oikawa on the floor of the gym. There are tears on Oikawa’s cheeks, his knee an ugly, inflamed mess. An ache echoes through Iwaizumi’s body as though he’s the one who’s hurt.

He wishes he was.

There’s anger boiling up in his gut - How could Oikawa be so stupid? Didn’t he learn his lesson? Didn’t Iwaizumi tell him? Wasn’t he enough? - but he forces it down, _down,_ because anxiety is already rolling off Oikawa in waves, so strong Iwaizumi can practically feel it himself. Anger won’t help here, and Iwaizumi came to help.

“Don’t be mad,” are the first words out of Oikawa’s mouth.

“I’m not-”

“You are,” Oikawa insists, voice a cracking, unsteady warble, “I can tell.”

But Iwaizumi’s not mad at Oikawa, not really. Iwaizumi is mad at the world, for allowing things like this to happen again and again. He’s mad at the way Oikawa never feels good enough, the way he works himself so hard, the way he pulls out the best in everyone but himself. Most of all, Iwaizumi is mad at himself, that he knew what was going on but still let it get this far.

“‘S not your fault,” Oikawa says. Even like this, he reads Iwaizumi so well. It would be unnerving if Iwaizumi couldn’t do the same right back.

“It’s bad,” Iwaizumi says. It isn’t a question.

Oikawa bites his lip and nods anyway, guilt and fear written across his face.

“Can you stand on it?”

Oikawa doesn’t answer right away, and that in itself is answer enough. Iwaizumi sighs.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa says, small and quiet.

“I know,” Iwaizumi replies.

 

-

 

The trip to the emergency room isn’t an easy one. Oikawa clings to him the whole way- he has to- and Iwaizumi bears the weight with quiet, clumsy dignity. Neither of them says a word. Neither of them needs to.

When they cross the threshold of the hospital, Oikawa’s breath hitches, and Iwaizumi pretends not to notice the tears wetting the collar of his shirt. It’s pain, but it’s also the unspoken fear both of them refuse to voice: that the nurse who greets them at the front desk could be the same nurse who tells them Oikawa will never play again.

Iwaizumi wonders what he would do. Could he still play volleyball without Oikawa at his side, setting perfect tosses to him with barely a glance? Without Oikawa’s cheers in his ear at every victory, without Oikawa’s hand on his back at every crushing defeat? Volleyball is a team sport. It’s not about one person. Iwaizumi knows this, he’s certainly told it to Oikawa enough times.

_“The team with the better six is stronger,”_ he had said.

Iwaizumi wonders if those six matter at all if Oikawa isn’t one of them.

 

-

 

Oikawa’s hands shake too much to fill out the medical forms. Iwaizumi takes it from him without a word, begins filling out the information himself.

_Height:_ 184.

_Weight:_ 70.

_Blood type:_ B.

_Previous injuries-_

Could Iwaizumi still play without Oikawa? Could he stand being on the court knowing his best friend will never be able to again? Iwaizumi’s a strong player, a natural athlete. He excels at volleyball because he likes it, because he works hard at it. Could he really give it up? Quit and join some other club?

Oikawa is staring at him over the clipboard, bloodshot eyes wide and intense. Iwaizumi knows in an instant that Oikawa would never forgive him.

Iwaizumi looks down at the forms and tries not to think about it.

“Are you allergic to any medicine?” He asks. It’s the first question he hasn’t known the answer to.

“Dunno,” Oikawa shrugs.

Iwaizumi checks _none._ “Forms are done.”

Next to him, Oikawa tugs at a loose string at the hem of his t-shirt, watches the thread unravel at the strain. “Thank you,” he whispers. They both know he’s not talking about about the paperwork.

“It’s what friends do,” Iwaizumi says.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t…”

“But I did.”

“Next time you might not-”

“I will. Every time,” he says, and feels it down to his toes. In his seat, Oikawa can only manage a nod, breath caught up in his throat and stopping the words that want to come.

Iwaizumi flicks Oikawa between the eyes. “Not that it matters, since there won’t _be_ a next time. Because you’re going to start taking care of yourself from now on, alright idiot?” He says. Oikawa musters the energy to whine at his mistreatment, and for a minute they can both laugh and convince themselves that everything is okay.

“How did you know?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

Oikawa’s expression is stuck somewhere between stunned and confused. “You snuck out after curfew and came all the way to school just because you had a _feeling?_ ” Oikawa looks at Iwaizumi like he’s trying to figure out a particularly complex puzzle.

“Well you’re always up to something stupid, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi says.

“Rude,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi knows he hasn’t dropped the subject, he’s just pretending to for now. He’s pretty sure Oikawa knows that he knows, but neither of them brings it up. Instead, Iwaizumi double-triple-quadruple checks the information on the forms, and Oikawa pulls out the rest of the thread hanging from his shirt.

Oikawa shifts in his chair and bites out a hiss when he jostles his knee the wrong way. Iwaizumi’s hands hover uselessly in the air, not knowing what to do, and it makes his heart clench. When it comes it Oikawa, he’s always known what to do.

 

-

 

A nurse comes with a wheelchair to take Oikawa to the exam room. When Iwaizumi stands to follow, he’s stopped by an apologetic look and some murmured explanation about “hospital policy.”

In the chair, Oikawa has gone rigid, his grip on Iwaizumi’s hand so tight, it feels like the bones might fracture.

“Iwa-chan,” he chokes out, “what if I-”

“Don’t think about it,” Iwaizumi says, low and even. He squeezes Oikawa’s hand back.

Oikawa averts his eyes, turns his head so Iwaizumi won’t see the tears forming. (He does anyway.)

“I might not-”

“You might, you might not,” Iwaizumi says. “But there’s no use getting worked up over it until we know for sure.”

“And if...”

Oikawa doesn’t finished the sentence. He can’t.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Iwaizumi says.

The nurse wheels Oikawa off. The sight makes Iwaizumi’s stomach drop, but he smiles anyways and gives Oikawa a reassuring nod. It doesn’t really fool either of them.

 

-

 

The hospital coffee is too gross to drink, but Iwaizumi gets a cup anyways, just so he can pick at the cheap styrofoam and have something to do other than wait.

He tries not to notice the anxiety that still pricks underneath his skin, quieter than before but ever present. It reminds him of the pinch of needles, the way they’re probably drawing Oikawa’s blood right now. It reminds him of the nerve-wracking week their first year when they waited to see if they’d make the team together, the game in middle school where Oikawa had been benched, the endless weeks leading up to it, the night he had come so, so close to hitting Kageyama. Iwaizumi has been there for all of it, experienced the dread and the frustration right next to Oikawa. If they made it through all that, they’ll make it through this. They have to.

 

-

 

Time passes like everything is underwater, the prickling under his skin ebbing and flowing like waves. Oikawa emerges, finally, crutches under his arms and bags under his eyes. He looks like he’s been through hell - they both do - but when he manages a timid smile, Iwaizumi could almost throw up with relief. They’re both worn and exhausted, but somehow Iwaizumi knows they’re going to be alright. He just _knows_.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: time to buckle down and clean the apartment!  
> Also Me: ok but have you considered writing iwaoi instead?
> 
>  
> 
> come cry with me on tumblr @ quoth-the-ravenclaw


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